The Sequence of Sounds
by pallasphoenix
Summary: Santana and Tina become victims in a car accident that renders one of them paralyzed from the waist down.
1. Watching the Sequence of Sounds

_**The Sequence of Sounds**_

_Santana and Tina become victims in a car accident that renders one of them paralyzed from the waist down. _

**Chapter 1: Watching the Sequence of Sounds**

_June, 2016_

"Got me lookin' so crazy right now, your touch got me lookin' so crazy right now," I sing cheerfully, one hand gripping the steering wheel and the other holding a soda straw to my lips. I take a sip before handing it to Mike, whom is sitting in the passenger side seat.

"Got me hopin' you page me right now, your kiss got me hopin' you'll save me right now," Tina sings in the backseat, she and Sam holding a flashlight, having been found under their seats, to their mouths while belting out the lyrics. I laugh, smiling and glancing into the rearview mirror to catch a glimpse of them.

"You two are insane, I should get you a prescription, Tee," I smirk, earning me a swift knock to the back of the head. "Hey! Not cool!"

I look at Tina through the rearview mirror and see her grinning wildly, her eyes lit up the way they are when she's excited. We're on the road to Las Vegas; a trip the four of us have been planning for a little over half a year. None of us have ever been, and we thought that the summer needed a little gambling time scheduled in. Honestly, I didn't really care where we chose to go; I need this break. Work has been hectic lately, and money has been tight. Tina and I have rented a small apartment about 10 miles outside Lima, but we've been considering moving in with her parents. It's getting expensive to live these days, especially as students who still haven't paid off their loans yet.

"Young Ho, y'all know when the flow is loco, Young B and the R O C, uh oh," Tina raps, snapping me out of my thoughts. "Ol' G, big homie, the one and only," she sings again, then I see her pass the flashlight to Sam, and he presses his larger than normal lips to the tool and spits the next rhyme.

"Stick bony but the pocket is fat like Tony, Soprano," he shouts, moving his hands dramatically and swaying from side to side as if he were a heavyweight champ in a boxing match. I can hear Tina cackling behind me, I can see Mike twist back in his seat to see what all the fuss is about. I adjust my aviators as the sun glares through the windshield, also pulling down the sun visor to protect my eyes. We all finish singing the song, laughing and howling like wolves the entire way. I pick up speed as we get onto the highway, now going about 65 mph. I roll down my window and my companions do the same, Sam sticks his head out the window while Tina tries to pull him back inside. Mike is moving his hand up and down through the wind as if it were a dolphin. I rest my elbow on the open window, admiring the perfect conditions. Going at this rate, we should've been at our first hotel stop by 6pm. But things took a turn for the worst.

I roll my lips together, feeling that they're incredibly dry. I try to ignore it, but it keeps bothering me as I dart my tongue out and feel a small cut on my lip. Now this is really bothering me, so I glance up into the rearview mirror and at Sam.

"Trouty, do you have any chap stick?" I ask, pursing my wind chapped lips and waiting for an answer.

"Hold on…" the blonde man trails off, and I look back to the road as I hear him searching his pockets. "Sorry San, must be in my duffel bag." I shrug and lick my lips again, the insignificant pain still there. We drive on another mile or two down the highway, fluctuating between 65 and 70 mph. I keep licking my lips, the chapped skin under my tongue irritates me. I glance into the rearview mirror, along with the side mirrors. No one seems to be on the road.

"Tee, baby, can you grab my purse? It's in the back, I just need some chap stick," I ask, and Tina nods and unbuckles her seatbelt to reach into the trunk for my purse. I see Sam holding her waist, probably nervous.

"Got it," she says with a grunt, pulling herself back up and sitting down. I glance back for just a moment as Tina hands me my purse, one hand on the wheel, but when I turn back everything lurches forward. I feel an impact in the back of our little Rav4, which sends us all rocketing forward. I jerk against my seatbelt and the airbag comes out in a cloud of white, smashing into my face and breaking my sunglasses. I close my eyes and I hear one of the boys screaming, and then I hear Tina and myself screaming. The car slides sideways as my hands fly off the wheel, braced back by the airbag. I hear the car skid and finally stop, and I hear myself screaming but I don't know why. I fight against the airbag to deflate it, trying to see if everyone is okay.

"Mike, Sam, Tina?" I cry out, and I hear Mike moan next to me before answering.

"I'm right here Santana… Sam?"

"Where's Tina?"

I frown, panic setting in as I twist to look for her in the backseat. She's not there, and when I turn around I notice a rather monstrous hole in the windshield, blood tainting the edges of the jagged broken glass. I hear myself scream her name, and there's no answer. I hear Mike talking to someone, and I frantically claw myself out of my seatbelt. I see a man running from Mike's window, Mike shakily dialing a number on his cell phone.

"Santana, stay where you-" I don't care at all for what he says, all I care about is Tina.

"Tina? Tina!" I scream hysterically, whipping around to look for my girlfriend. And there she is, plain as day, lying on the asphalt road. The first thing I remember noticing is how pale she seems against the black tar of the highway. The next thing I remember is her name clawing its way out of my throat, my feet urging me to run to her. I see her legs twisted at horrible, unnatural angles as I bend down to brush the hair from her eyes. She doesn't respond when I touch her, or when I frantically call her name. As the tears drip down from my eyes, I feel a pair of hands rest on my shoulders before pulling me back. I struggle against them, reaching for Tina.

"Santana, Santana! Calm down!" Mike says, holding me fast to his chest as Sam cautiously bends down next to Tina's lifeless body, while I cover my noiseless cries with a hand clamped over my mouth. Sam lets out a sigh, crying and laughing at the same time.

"She's got a pulse," he laughs, his voice drowned out by the ambulance sirens.

I don't remember much, as everything happened so quickly. You know what people say, they say that your entire life flashes before your eyes as you're about to die? I didn't have that luxury as I hurtled towards Santana's windshield; it was all too quick. I must've been knocked unconscious as soon as I broke the glass, because everything went black after that, and not a moment later I opened my eyes and I felt restraints around my head, belts holding me down to a stretcher as I was lifted into what looked to me like the back of an ambulance. They had a respirator covering my mouth, filling my lungs with air. I heard Santana shouting and arguing with someone, probably wanting to be right next to me.

"Miss Lopez, I'm going to have to ask you to step back. We need to care for your friend, and we can't do that with you in the back of the ambulance."

"Sweetheart, we're going to need you to relax. I know you're… pain… calm," I heard a woman say over me in a sweeter than pie voice, her words fading in and out. I looked up into the woman's pale blue eyes and nodded slightly before I passed out again from the pain.

* * *

I drowsily open my eyes, the bright fluorescent lights blinding me for an instant. I hear a gasp and a squeeze at my hand.

"Tina, baby?" I hear Santana ask tentatively, as if I were some sort of small creature that would run away at a simple heightening of her voice. I turn my head to look at her, smiling up at my beautiful girlfriend. Crying and with tears in her eyes, Santana leans down to kiss me, her lips never tasted sweeter than at that moment.

"Hermosa, te amo, te amo, te amo," Santana whispered, kissing me again. I feel a split lip against mine as my arms are wrapping themselves around her neck.

"It's okay, I'm here Sannie. I'm never leaving you again, I promise," I laugh, kissing her frantically.

"I'm so sorry, Tee. This is all my fault, I shouldn't hav—" I press a finger to her lips as she sets me back down on the bed.

"It's not your fault. And besides, I'm fine. I probably just hit my… head…" I trail off, seeing Sam wipe his eyes as his bottom lip trembles. Mike claps his hands on the blonde man's shoulders, his lips pressed into a tight line. I look to my left and see my mother and father next to me, and my mother grabs my hand and so does my father. They all look as if someone just died. "What's wrong… Santana?" I ask, my voice frantic. She squeezes my hand tightly, tears in her eyes as she sniffs.

"You didn't just hit your head, Tin—"

"Why can't I feel… why can't I feel my legs?" I ask in a panic, my face contorting into a mask of fear. "Why can't I feel my legs, Santana?"

"Mi amor… when you flew out of the car… your legs…"

"What about my…" I stop midsentence, sitting up and throwing the blanket off my legs. I gasp and my hands fly to my mouth as I see my legs in splints, and when I try to wiggle my toes, nothing happens. All that comes out of my mouth is a soundless sob.

"You're paralyzed, from the waist down."

Santana holds me as I cry, burying my head into her shoulder and fisting her bloody t-shirt.


	2. Struck By You

**Chapter 2: Struck By You**

_July_

It's been a month since the accident, a month since we learned that Tina would never be able to walk again. I had pleaded with the doctor to give her physical therapy, but the doctor replied with the same answer every time, that her spine was permanently damaged, and Tina would be wheelchair bound for the rest of her life. Tina. Bright, shining, vibrant, beautiful Tina, only 22, now she sits in a wheel chair, her life forever changed. All because I wanted some fucking chap stick. Why couldn't I just wait? Why did my lips have to be chapped at that exact moment? Why would God take away Tina's legs? I couldn't wrap my mind around it. For the first day or so, all Tina did was just sit and stare at her numb, unmoving legs. I held her in my arms and whispered sweet nothings in her ear the whole day, rocking her back and forth in my lap as I sang to her. Still, she just stared at her legs, saying something to me on occasion, then she would reach for my hand and become silent again.

During this all, I began to pray more often, and eventually I began going to church in hopes that God would help Tina. It did nothing, but I still go. Tina comes with me too, now. She says it gives her something to believe in. I suppose it does that for me too, in a way. I hate the stares we get, though, as I wheel Tina down the aisle. She can feel them just as much as I can. The doctor said that Tina's spine was damaged when she fell from the car onto the road, and that she won't be able to feel her legs or waist ever again. She will never be able to walk, never be able to run. Surprisingly, though, through it all Tina has stayed positive. The first week was rough, trying to get her out of the hospital bed. Tina was so dead set on getting to that wheelchair on her own, and she fell so many times but she kept getting up, pushing me away when I reached out to help. But she did it, God help her she did it. I think that's what I love most about my Tina; she never gives up, ever.

We now live in Tina's parents house, and although the man who hit our car paid as much as he could of Tina's hospital bill, she and I were still in debt. So now we live with Momma and Poppa Cohen-Chang, which actually isn't all that bad. Of course I feel rude having Mrs. Cohen-Chang cook for us all the time, so mostly I'm the one cooking breakfast and dinner. It's just my little way of saying thanks to them, for everything. Since we had to move, I got a job at the hair salon in town, which pays pretty decently and it's a job. Slowly but surely we're planning to get ourselves out of this debt hole. Momma Cohen-Chang wants us to stay forever, though. I think she likes me a lot; the other day we spent a few hours talking while we built ramps around the deck outside for Tina. It was nice to actually talk with her. It's not that she ever disapproved of me, we just didn't know each other.

It's still hard, though. On occasion, I wake up in the middle of the night to hear Tina quietly sobbing on the other side of the bed. Sometimes, I turn over and hold her tightly, telling her it'll be okay. Other times I just let her cry, because I know she just wants to be alone with her thoughts. It's hard, to see my Tina cry. I wish I could take away all her pain and make everything better for her.

* * *

It's a warm Sunday morning here in Lima; the birds are singing, the trees are a wonderful green, and I desperately want to go outside. After pressing my lips together into a thin line in anticipation of my future movements, I pull myself on my side to face Santana, the beautiful Latina still fast asleep. She looks so calm, almost serene as she sleeps. I hate to break that dream like state she has become a temporary resident of, but now it's time to start the day.

"Santaaaaaana," I sing with a self-inflicted smile on my face, reaching over and supporting myself with my arms to kiss her lightly. She stirs slightly, her eyes fluttering open, but then she drifts back to sleep. I grin, prepared to accept the daunting challenge. I pull myself closer to Santana's sleeping figure and begin to snake my hand under her tank top, skimming my fingers across the velvety, tanned skin with a feather light touch. "Santaaaana," I coo, but again she doesn't respond. Grinning like the Cheshire cat, my hand sneaks back down and slips beneath Santana's shorts. With one carefully placed caress, she's up.

Santana's eyes fly open to look at me, a goofy grin slapped across her face. "It's been a long time since we've done that," Santana observed, her voice still slightly hoarse from sleep. "Good morning, sweetheart." I smile as she leans up to kiss me, her hand fluttering to my cheek as our lips move against one another. I slowly release her lips with a quiet pop, trailing peppered kisses down Santana's smooth neck and stopping at her collarbone. I feel her grasp my shirt, and I'm about to continue when she pulls away.

"I don't think we should, Tina. I don't wan—"

"The doctor said we were clear for intimacy… and they said I can still feel…"

"I know, but now since you woke me up, we've got to get ready for church," Santana purses her lips. "You know we can't miss this Sunday."

"I know, I know; Carlos' baby is getting baptized," I groan, rolling my eyes and earning myself a gentle cheek slap that is chased by a soothing kiss. Santana smiles and gets out of bed, circling around to the other side and leaning down as I wrap my arms around her neck. She easily lifts me up like a ragdoll and places me in my chair, I settle into it and grip the wheels on either side of me to roll myself to the bathroom.

Forty-five minutes later the both of us are showered, teeth brushed, and expertly clad in our Sunday's best. Santana has her long, dark hair falling across her shoulders, accompanied by a light blue dress, which hugs her hips nicely. I'm wearing a lavender dress that stops right at the knee, my equally dark hair pulled into a bun with a curled tendril hanging against my face. I smiled up at her as she turned around to tell me something, still attempting to fit an earring into her ear. Santana smiles back at me, and when she does I reach my hands up for her to bend down, as my head now comes up to only her torso.

"What?" she asks lightly as she bends down, and it's then when I grab her hips and pull her onto my lap, pressing my lips to hers. Santana laughs into my mouth, wrapping her arms around my neck. "Still needy I see. I thought a cold shower would take care of this," Santana says into my neck, whispering feather light kisses there. I let her nuzzle into my collarbone, softly running my fingers through her hair before taking her chin in my hand and bringing her up to kiss my lips again. Before I can do anything else we hear the door open, and my mother enters stage left.

"Christina, I just- oh," my mother exclaims, surprised. She loves Santana, and my mother has always been all right with my relationship with her, but it still startles her whenever I kiss Santana. After letting out a quiet sigh, I turn to my mother as Santana gets off my lap. "I just wanted to tell you that I'm going out for coffee with some friends for a few hours, and then I will be out shopping for the rest of the day." I nod and smile at her.

"Gotcha, thanks, Ma," I grin, turning my chair around and wheeling over to go hug her. I watch her expression tighten as I come closer, knowing that she will never get over the chair. She leans down to hug me, holding me and rubbing my back. It's only been a month, I say to myself. My mother is strong, she'll get through it. I heard her talking to my father in the hospital when they thought I was sleeping. She seemed so upset, crying about how I would never be able to walk down the aisle at my wedding. I cried a little bit too, but I'll get over it eventually. I need to let go of those things if I want to live again like I did. When she lets go of me I drop back down into my chair, wheeling back a little to look at her.

"San and I will be at church, then we might go out to lunch with friends," I told her, smiling as my mother did.

"Sounds great, sweet pea. I'll see you ladies later, then," she smiles, her eyes turning to look up at Santana and wink at her before turning to leave, quickly disappearing down the stairs. When she's gone, I feel Santana's hands grip my shoulders and massage them slowly. I place my hand over one of hers, tilting my head back to look up at her.

"You looked like your shoulders hurt," she shrugs, eliciting a laugh from my lips. She bends down behind my chair, her lips brushing against my ear. "And your mother will be gone all day, it seems…" Santana whispers into my ear quietly. "I'd like to see for myself if everything still works." As she pulls away, I feel warmth collect in my cheeks. Hopefully, she can't see my redder than acceptable face as she wheels me down the hall, heading towards the car.

* * *

"And then, apparently, her husband found the two of them like that in bed… let's just say he was _not_ happy," Santana smirked, retelling a story she had heard at work a few days ago. She always had the best gossip; she worked at a hair salon after all. I gently run my fingers over my locked wheels, always blending into the group when with more than two or three people. It's another thing I love about Santana, her bravery in conversation and her ability to win people over instantly. It's easy to be in a group with her, because she takes the attention away from me. Especially now, I get a lot of looks and questions about my chair and the events putting me here. I answer them, sometimes.

I'm a bit nervous about this group we've gone out with, these two other couples we met at church since Santana and I started attending the house of God. This is the first time we've spent time with then, sans sitting in the same pew as them and occasionally sharing a bible. So new people plus the fact that they keep eyeing my chair makes my palms sweaty, and I'm trying to avoid conversation with them at all costs.

"So, Tina, what do you do? Job wise, I mean," Tracy asks, sweeping her blonde hair to the side. She's whom Santana and I have dubbed "White Picket Fence Lady". Santana looks over at me and I wave her off, turning to Tracy and smiling.

"I've been out of work for a while, currently running around trying to find a job," I explain, gesturing with my hands, and Tracy seems to be satisfied. Content with not talking about exactly why I haven't been able to work, I stuff some more BLT sandwich into my mouth.

"That's a shame… You know, I heard the local Wal-Mart has been looking for a greeter-"

"Stop right there," Santana interrupts, and I frown and hold her arm.

"Santana, stop it," I hiss under my breath, not wanting to make a scene. Santana looks over at me before continuing, this time a little more smoothly.

"Tina went to college, to be an actress," Santana tells Tracy, and I look at the blonde woman to gauge her reaction. I see pity in her eyes as she bites her lip, her husband's hand curling around her shoulder. "She just hasn't been able to work."

Tracy resumes her smiling, nodding to me. "Well I don't see why a handi-capable person like you can't work, I'm sure there are plenty of roles that you could play." I smile and nod, biting my lip before putting down my sandwich and wiping my hands clean. I carefully lace my hands together on the table, looking over at Tracy.

"I can't work at the moment because I'm still a bit clumsy," I say, glancing over at Santana before continuing. "I'm the girl in the route 24 accident." As soon as I say that, everyone's mouths fall open and they all stare at me. "I'm getting back to work in a few weeks, I needed to take a little break after everything. My face was scarred up and all," I explain minimally, glancing over at Santana to see tears in her eyes. Frowning, I hug her tightly, resting my chin on her shoulder as she leans down a bit to accommodate me.

"It's not your fault, darling. Okay? I'm fine, we're fine," I reassure her, tightly fisting the back of her dress. I feel her nod against me and I let her go, dropping back into my chair. "It's okay," I say again quietly before facing all our acquaintances. "So, did you hear about Lady Gaga's new boyfriend? I heard he's a hunk," I start, trying to change the subject. It works, thankfully, and I spend the rest of the lunch holding Santana's hand underneath the table.


	3. I Miss The Dizzy Heights

**Chapter 3: I Miss The Dizzy Heights**

_July_

"Santana?" I call from the bottom of the left, spiral staircase while rolling my eyes in frustration. "Santana, can you come get me? This isn't funny."

"Can't you wait two seconds? Jeez."

"I'm tired and I kind of want to take a nap. And my arms hurt."

"I know, Tee… just…" I hear Santana clambering down the stairs, and a moment later I feel her hands grasp my shoulders. "I was just getting something ready. Grab onto me, monkey," Santana smiles softly, so I nod and clasp my hands around the back of her neck as my girlfriend slides her hands underneath me and pulls me up into her arms. I smile and lean my head against her chest, reaching up to nuzzle her neck as she takes me upstairs. When we reach the top step of the staircase, I see a line of rose petals waiting for us that lead to our room. I look up at Santana and smile, holding onto her a little tighter.

"I told you I wanted to see for myself," she smirks, quickly walking us into the bedroom and shutting the door with her foot, and I can tell her arms are just about ready to give out, but Santana carefully places me on the bed and goes back to lock the door before coming back to me and laying down with me. I hold her hips and crash my lips against hers, feeling the heat from her body flood into mine. I immediately reach behind Santana to unzip her dress, and she moans against my mouth as I trail a finger down her healthy spine. Her dress quickly peels off and is cast aside, Santana pushing me on my back and straddling my hips, frantically reaching for a way to take off my dress as I unclasp her bra, throwing that to the wayside as well before kneading her breasts and tweaking a nipple.

"Fuck… Tee… I want you so much," Santana moans in a husky tone, her eyes dark with lust as she slides my dress off as her lips press hard to my neck, sucking there with enough pressure to leave marks. "You're so hot," Santana whispers, a slight smirk creeping across her face as she does so.

I moan and arch into her, holding myself up by hanging onto Santana with my arms. It feels so good to be back in her arms like this, kissing her and not holding back. I can tell Santana is scared, because she's being careful with me, like I'm a porcelain doll ready to shatter at any moment. I know she wants to go further but is wary to, so I kiss her and dip a finger into Santana's panties, eliciting a moan from my girlfriend, which only makes me positive; I'm doing something right. Santana's hands are still on my waist, even if I've already got a finger pressing inside of her and her panties off and on the floor amongst our other clothes. Our lips linger for a moment as I set a rhythm, pumping into Santana furiously.

"Tina," she moans, kissing me again. "More, please." I smirk and comply with her eager request, pulling out of her before adding another finger, pressing into Santana harder. Santana holds onto me as she arches down into my hips, moving her hands down to squeeze my breasts. I moan with her, biting my lip and moving my fingers inside of Santana. With that ever-present dark glint in her eye, Santana bends down and bites my earlobe, taking it between her lips before releasing it. "What can I do? I don't like to leave a lady hanging." I giggle at that.

"I'm still the same person, we can do the same things. I'm not going to break," I say with a laugh, but I have a serious undertone I know Santana will hear. "I promise, Sannie."

"I'm… I'm sorry. You're right," Santana admits in between breaths as I press my fingers into her. "Oh… shit, Tee."

"You're close," I murmur, feeling her tighten around my fingers. I take one hand and squeeze her breast, and with the other hand I continue to pump into her, sliding myself down and positioning before leaning up and darting my tongue into Santana's folds. I hear her let out a loud moan that only urges me further as I press my tongue in and out of her, brushing past her swollen clit and pulling her closer to the edge.

"Tina… right… oh God," Santana moans, finally falling from the precipice and shaking from the impact, as I help her ride out her orgasm. "Let me do you," she says softly after she comes back down, kissing me before grinning and lowering herself down to my legs. I close my eyes and lean my head back in anticipation, waiting for Santana to start. Nothing happens, and I assume she's most likely touching my legs or something of the sort, things that I can't feel.

"San, sweetie, hurry up already. Enough with the teasing," I giggle, smiling. There's silence on the other end.

"What are you talking about? I'm tongue deep- can you feel that?"

"… Can I feel what?" I ask, my lips curling into a deep frown. What is she talking about? "Can I feel what?"

"I'm touching you, Tina," Santana says, and I open my eyes and look down at her, the dark haired woman's fingers deep inside of me. And I can't feel anything. I feel tears well up in my eyes, out of frustration, irritation, and shock.

"Tina, sweetie, it's okay. Just calm-"

"I can't feel anything, I can't feel anything," I cry out, my voice breaking. "I can't feel my legs, I can't feel anything." I do, however, feel Santana's arms come around me tightly and quickly, grabbing me into an embrace and rocking me back and forth.

"Shhh, it'll be okay. It's okay, you're okay," Santana tries to reassure me, petting my head and pressing kisses into my hair. I cling to her, burying my head in her shoulder as she moves my legs to tuck under me from their previous chaotic positions. "It's okay, Tina. It's okay."

"How is this okay?" I shout, crying profusely. "I can't feel **anything!**"

"I'm sorry, Tina. Sweetie, I'm so sorry… I don't know how to fix it," Santana cries, holding me tightly as if I am a broken bird, too torn to fly. That is what I am, now; an injured bird.

"You can't, no one can…" I trail off, squeezing my eyes shut tightly as I can. Santana just holds me safely in her arms for a while, humming and kissing my forehead as I simply cling to her, not knowing what to do. I can't feel anything any more, I don't feel human any longer. I'm just a torso in a chair, wheeling along and pretending that I'm a whole person.

"Tina, want me to make you some tea? Or we can just lay down for a little, listen to some mu-"

"Can you leave me alone for just a little, San? I'm feeling claustrophobic," I finally interrupt, my voice firm with a biting edge to it. Santana pauses, resting her hand on mine for a moment before nodding with her bottom lip between her teeth.

"I'll be making tea for you downstairs, call for me when you're ready, sweetheart," Santana tells me, giving me a glance before getting up and leaving. Then I'm alone, with the covers held to my chest and my head in my other hand, quiet, harsh sobs spilling from my lips. I can't do this anymore; when something goes up, everything else comes crashing down.


End file.
